Disclaimer: I of course…don't own any of The Terminator legend. The world and its characters belong to James Cameron and the Hollywood powers that be. I'm simply borrowing them for a while.

T4-Connor's War

Chapter 7

            "Missouti! Get down!" Kane screamed as he lit the flame thrower and fired at the T-8. They'd only been on duty for 70 minutes and this was already the third infiltration. Kane aimed right for its primary weakness, exposed circuitry below the torso plating, and the machine shorted out. Missouti finished the job with a low powered grenade.

            "Hit the deck!" he shouted back and the two dove for cover as the enemy was destroyed.

            Kane waited a few more minutes and got to his feet, brushing off his jeans with his cap. He gave his comrade a perturbed look, "Hit the deck?"

            Missouti finished dusting himself off too, looked up and shrugged. "Sounded better than 'duck.'" Kane rolled his eyes and turned away, muttering under his breath. Missouti ignored him.

            Dennis Missouti was one of two more survivors added on the crew's trek north from the Sierras. After several days of travel, stopping only to take cover from impending attacks, they came across an old fallout shelter, still protected and undiscovered. Kane would never forget the look on Brewster's face when the bunker was opened up and only three people had made it down there to begin with. Still, the resistance was growing.

            Dennis was a little older than Rico, early twenties, and was visiting old college friends in the area. One of these friends, Susan Wallace, had made it down to the bunker in time and was now a part of the resistance. The other, her husband Danny, had died pushing her inside. The two had been on an environmental expedition, studying dormant volcanoes in the Cascade Mountains near Crater Lake.  The third person found in the bunker was a gentleman named Anthony Richmond. But his appendix had ruptured a few hours before Connor's small crew had found them. There was nothing Dr. Mitchell could do.

            Kane cocked back an AK-47, his personal favorite, and resumed his post. They had been assigned to guard the south gate to their new base. In just a few weeks, the crew had turned the fallout shelter at Crater Lake into a makeshift headquarters for operations. The structure was already more stable than Crystal Peak had been, and contained rations and equipment that easily improved their own stockpile. But in the 4 hours they'd been on duty, this had been the third infiltration. The first two were HKs. Easy to detect. Too big and bulky for sufficient maneuverability. As long as they could replenish their ammunition, HKs posed no fatal threats.

            But the T-8s were different. These were new. The first, Connor knew, in a very long line of Terminator models. Fast. Agile. Not quite humanoid yet, but there were already parallels between the T-8 and the T-101 in mechanical and skeletal structure. In the resistance's first encounter with a T-8, Jo Kinsella was almost killed.

            "I'm heading back," Missouti said, taking his weapon with him. "I'll send Ferrari out when I get there." He rose from his seat and looked to Kane for some sort of acknowledgment that he'd been heard. The grunt he received would have to suffice. Dennis sighed and headed for the ops center of Crater Lake.

            "It's been 4 days," John slammed his fist on the table, scattering maps and medicinal supplies as he did so. Luke calmly sighed as he bent to retrieve them as John continued. "They should have reported in by now. Even if they couldn't find anything, I told them they were to contact the base within 48 hours regardless of their findings."

            "They might be too far away to get a signal," Luke offered as he tried to resume his aid. Connor sustained daily injuries. It actually started amusing Dr. Mitchell after a while how John would come into his makeshift office with fresh cuts, scrapes…gashes on his arms and legs almost every day. He'd come to the conclusion that either John Connor had an extremely high tolerance for pain…or he simply didn't feel it anymore.

            John shook his head. "We agreed on the mile radius. That's impossible."

            "Maybe Jo got scared that Skynet would track them?" he offered again. But it was clear John wasn't interested in rational explanations. Jo and Mikey set out 4 days beforehand in search of more supplies. The stretch of Cascades they had found seemed to have sustained minimal damage in the attack. After several arguments, they convinced John to let them head an expedition to further explore the region for more ammunition and food.

            "No," John shook his head, hopping of the cot practically before Luke was even finished. "No, I'll have Rico modify the tower. Increase the wattage. There's gotta be a way to-"

            "Have you even seen her today?" Luke cut in. John's eyes shot up like knives…but Luke held firm. It was risky to say the least. Challenging John Connor on such a personal level. In the past month or so since he and Kate took them under wing, Luke and most of the others had grown to look to John as the leader he was always meant to be. Followed orders and commands without argument. Never quite understood but accepted that he and he alone somehow knew how to fight back. He was the key to humanity's survival.

            But when it came to his patients, Dr. Mitchell's priorities were steadfast. Since the collapse of Crystal Peak, Kate had been incapacitated. No movement in her leg, splintered wrist, broken arm…though this wasn't what concerned him. The physical damage would eventually heal and Kate Brewster would be the strong woman she always had been…on the outside.

            But in the past few days, John's visits grew more and more infrequent. As if something held him back and he seemed unable to even look at her fully unless she was asleep. John realized that Mitchell would not back down and he dropped his gaze, sighing as he pinched the ridge of his nose and winced, "Not today, no."

            Luke just nodded and finished taping up the gauze on his shoulder, leaving John alone on the cot. He knew Luke was right. He also knew no amount of military excuses could be made to explain the sheer terror he felt when he got anywhere near Kate. For the first few months of the war, an unmistakable connection had been established between the two. Before, Kate's presence was a comfort. A sanctuary. But the only thing he felt near her anymore…was Seth. Even now, he felt it. The exam room wasn't far from Kate's. He shrugged on his jacket, ignoring the sharp pain in his arm as he did so and peered around the corner. And there she was, lying on her cot, sleeping. Pain struck him again in the chest, but this time, it hurt. It was the only pain he felt anymore. He stood for a long time, leaning against the doorframe, watching her chest rise and fall; seeing at the same time the collapse of Crystal Peak; reliving the pillar falling from the ceiling…feeling himself give up on Seth…all over again.

            Compounded memories. It was too much to bear. And he pulled away, feeling the pain deepen as the one person who had the power to ease it remained the one person who caused it. She was his salvation…and she was his curse.

Silently, he pulled the door closed and she felt him move away. And Kate felt the familiar warmth and saltiness of her tears trickle down her cheek. She would never ask for him. He would come on his own…when he was ready. And she would wait.

* * *

            "Jo! Come on! Connor said to check-in ever 48. We've got to get back to the truck."

            "Shh!" Jo waved him off, "2 seconds," she carefully lifted the vile from its freezer unit and added it to her case. Brother and sister had been out for almost 4 days and without much success, complicated by the fact that they'd had to evade 2 HKs already. But John had trained them well and they'd succeeded in the outsmarting and concealment department…for now. Still, their search for more weapons, supplies and survivors had ended quite poorly. In fact, just a few hours beforehand, they had already decided to give up completely when they came across what was left of a small tech-institute. Jo's flare for biochemistry kicked in and she insisted on gathering as many raw materials as possible. Still trying to maintain some sense of normalcy in her life, Jo preferred to think of herself as the same devoted scientist she had always been. Judgment Day was merely a problem. Her job now, to find a solution. (It rarely worked…but for now, it kept her occupied)

            However, as pleased as Mikey was that they wouldn't be returning to Crater Lake two days late and empty-handed, he had an eerie feeling that their time was running out. "Jo, I'm pulling rank. We're leaving!"

            Joe turned with that familiar amused arch of the eyebrow she'd used on him as a kid and for a moment, Mikey was grateful for the memory, "You're pulling rank?" her hands came to her hips.

            But Mikey still wasn't joking. "Connor put me in charge of this mission. And I say we're leaving!"

            "Calm down Mikey, I'm done-"

            "Is somebody there?" a human voice cut through the air-en entity to completely phenomenal anymore that both Kinsellas froze to be sure of the real thing. When the voice called again, Mikey pulled back from the pile of rubble Jo sat upon and started darting around. "We're here! We've come to help! Where are you?"

            "Is somebody there?" the voice repeated for a third time. And then again. And again.

            "Yes!" Mikey flailed his arms about wildly, as if searching for Candid camera. But Jo remained silent. Something wasn't right. Fear gripped her chest and suddenly…it was all too clear.

            "Mikey, shut up!" she hissed, slowly reaching inside her pack and felt for it…that cold steel handle of weaponry she swore she would never use. Instruments of destruction and chaos unfit for a scientist…now instruments of fate, instruments of survival. She drew the pulse rifle from the pack and aimed straight for her brother.

            "Duck!" she screamed. Mikey dove below the debris as the threat rolled out from behind the half-crumbled wall.

"Is somebody there?" the machine screeched again, and it suddenly didn't sound remotely human. Had Jo not been so intensely focused, the sheer size of this creature could have paralyzed her in fear. It was a T-8…but no, it wasn't. Similar structure yes, slightly bulkier perhaps…but T-8s couldn't imitate or mimic human vocal chords. John would have warned them about that. And yet, here it rolled before them, barrels open, powering up, a broken record playing on through its circuitry.

Jo's eyes narrowed and her once trembling hands now gripped firm as she launched a grenade right at its center. The explosion rocked her off her pile and she fell beside Mikey. "Let's go!" Mikey grabbed her arm and the two sprinted off away from the blast. The truck was about a 100 feet away. They might make it if they kept pace. But Jo gasped, "My pack," she cried, looking back.

"Forget it! Keep running!"

"No! We need it! There's stuff in there we can-"

"Jo we're out of-" but Mikey stopped mid-sentence as he too turned around. The dust and smoke had cleared…and the new T design emerged completely unscathed.

"Oh my God," she screamed.

"Jo, come on!"

"Oh my God!" Mikey was practically dragging her towards the truck. Her focus gone, concentration nearly shattered. And all the while, the machine gained more ground. Mikey threw open the driver's door and pushed Jo inside. "Start the car!" but Jo just stared at the weapon in her hand. A weapon that had been useless. And the machine had already reached her pathetic bag of chemical samples still lying upon the rubble-

"Jo! Snap out of it!

The chemicals-

"What's wrong with you!"

But Jo knew what she had to do now. Without a second more hesitation, she cocked the rifle once more in the seat of the truck and aimed for the bag. The machine was nearly on top of it.

"Jo! It's no good!"

Almost there…

"It won't work!"

Bull's-eye. Jo fired. And the grenade struck the bag. The shockwave shot underneath them and the truck was lifted slightly off the ground before it came crashing down again. But neither Mikey nor Jo screamed—merely held their breaths as they waited for the dust to clear. When it did, the machine had been destroyed.

They sat in their beat up truck, stunned. The clang of Jo's gun hitting the floor was the only sound for minutes on end.

"Jo…" Mikey finally whispered. And Jo turned into her brother's arms and sobbed.

"Kinsella…" the radio garbled through the CB. "Kinsella do you copy?"

Still holding onto Jo, Mikey reached for the radio and clicked it on. "Mike here."

"Shit Kinsella! Where the hell have you been?" Rico's voice rang of relief and Mikey had an odd feeling that John Connor was standing right next to him. Jo's shoulders hitched again and he closed his eyes.

"Got a bit held up. We're coming in."

* * *